The
Oprah Show did an introduction of Islam on October 5, 2001, which was
called Islam 101. Oprah, whose program is broadcast to most of the
world, wanted to introduce Islam to the American public. “Since our
world was horribly shaken three weeks ago,” she told her viewers,
“all eyes have focused on a part of the world and a set of beliefs
that many of us know very little about. We're told that terrorism
violates the teachings of Islam, but what is Islam? Who are Muslims?
What are their practices?”

This
was promising. Moreover, Oprah was friendly and open to what Muslims,
who constituted the majority of the audience during that show, had to
say. Even the expert she had asked to the show, anthropologist Akbar
Ahmed, was Muslim. But did we discuss the meaning of being Muslim, or
the problem of violence, or even the rage caused by American foreign
policy in the region? No, the Muslim audience had more pressing things
to discuss. The show proved to be a mirror of our intellectual
bankruptcy, a mirror of our true obsessions and fixations, because after
a quick discussion of what Islam was about, the show veered off to
discuss women in Islam, particularly the dress code. The “after
show” segment, which the program puts daily on its website after the
live recording in the studio, was entirely about “Hijab.” This was
both insightful and disheartening. It seemed that the gender question in
Islam had become the central issue and what Muslim women wear the core
of the debate on Islam, both internally and externally. It was
disgraceful to see how our contemporary discourse as "modern
Muslims” has become so focused on the scarf at the expense of the real
paradigms that define Islam, its history and its universal values.

It
is truly sad to see a certain culturally and historically specific edict
--with
controversial roots and implications-- becoming the raison d'être for
contemporary
Muslims while the larger parameters of Islam and its challenges are
rendered into obscure shadows in the background.

In
a pervious show, a woman from Oprah’s audience, asked if Muslim women
could take off their scarves, at least until things calmed down. Oprah
had to apologize in this
show for that question after a big amount of mail from Muslims was sent
to her (When did Muslims start writing so much mail? If it is about the
Hijab, I guess, we will write). But, Oprah did not have to apologize for
something the very religious establishment in the Middle East had raised
in the last few weeks. This was a legitimate question, although it was
received with hostility, even when it came from Imams in the form of
affirmative fatwas in the larger community, --published in Al Majalah
magazine a couple of weeks ago-- allowing women to remove their scarves
in the wake of recent events.

I
understand Muslim women’s sensitivity regarding the recent fatwas or
the question on Oprah’s show. They feel this is who they are and they
are not about to quit when the going gets tough. They perhaps even feel
somewhat betrayed by such fatwas, since wearing the Hijab has not always
been easy anyway in a society which has equated it with gender
oppression and fanaticism. But for Muslim women living in North America,
keeping the Hijab in the current crises has also represented a spirit of
defiance against racism and ignorance. This shows the contextual nature
of Hijab, which could be a symbol of oppression or courage and
independence, depending on the circumstances. In fact, an American women
organization called for American women to cover their hair on October
8th as a sign of solidarity and protest against racial harassment.

Nevertheless,
it is obvious that the scholars acted out of concern and open
mindedness. But I also find it interesting how, for the first time since
the Hijab has become central to our identity in the last few decades,
the scholars suddenly realized the relativity and conditional nature of
the verses dealing with covering, and the principles of recognition and
safety implied in them. --In the case of early Islam, free women were
asked to cover to be distinguished from slave women while slave women
were not allowed to. I do not think the well-meaning Muslim women in
Oprah's audience knew anything about this or even wanted it aired in
front of Oprah.

I
have always hesitated to discuss the issue of Hijab in public, or its
controversial historical roots I had come across in my reading of
classical Islamic texts for fear of falling into
the same hole of centralizing this marginal edict of Islam. I also did
not want to associate myself with an issue that I consider marginal, yet
so sensitive to the entire Ummah. In fact, I adopted a culturally
specific code of dress for myself. I cover in Muslim circles and the
Middle East and do not in the West. If I do otherwise, I will put too
much time into having to explain why I am not wearing it or why I am
wearing it, depending on where I am. By adopting a chameleonic way of
dressing, --and not a chameleon character-- I have reduced the amount of
time and energy spent discussing the scarf while creating a different
context to discuss things other than what I am wearing. I also did this
because, while I believe in modesty, I do not define myself through the
scarf, nor shy away from it. It is simply a way of dressing that can be
beautiful, empowering and protective but also, at times, limiting,
misleading and impractical. In addition, I felt, by discussing the
juristic and historical facts, which informed my decision, I would be
digging out some trivial nuance while invoking tremendous opposition
from the community.

But
after the Oprah Show last Friday I was so disturbed that I realized this
issue, at least regarding its centrality in our contemporary discourse,
has to be questioned. Muslim women are still forming their identities
and no one should have the final word on how we should come to terms
with being Muslim in this age.

It
was interesting to see the Muslim women in Oprah’s audience appeal to
the ideals of pluralism and civil liberties in defense of their
visibility and difference. However, when Queen Rania of Jordan appeared
via satellite, there was a murmur in the audience and some of the Muslim
women said that the Queen should be covered. Is it possible that Muslims
think it is acceptable to use civil liberties to practice their truth,
but if given the power to decide, they will coerce others to wear and do
what Muslims want? These kinds of questions are far more pressing. We
have to create internal debates about liberties, democracy and the need
for various efforts of interpretation within the Muslim communities.
Such debates should replace the non-issues of dress codes and small
edict matters in mainstream Muslim communities.

We
can no longer afford to have the scarf as the core of the debate on
Islam, nor as the symbol by which the level of a Muslim woman’s piety
or commitment to Islam is measured. We can no longer afford to have
every opportunity and discussion about Islam turn into a conversation on
dressing, nor can we afford as Muslim women, in our communities, to be
judged and awarded degrees and ranks of religiosity according to the
level of the dress code we abide by. The darker the color the better,
the bigger the garment the more pious. The race of ranking morally high
through fabric has no end in a path where the Taliban model seems to be
the only logical conclusion. It makes more sense to judge women on
matters relating to the basic tenets of Islam: regular prayer, fasting,
paying alms. But even such things were not acceptable to the Prophet as
criteria for assessing a person. When one of his companions praised
another companion, the Prophet said to him it was not enough to see him
going up and down in prayer at the Mosque. The Prophet asked him: Have
you traveled with him? Have you seen him angry? Have you dealt with him
in matters of money?

When
people are not noble enough to resort to the Prophetic method of
assessing a person, I try to bring them back to the basic requirements,
without getting lost in juristic and historical details, by citing the
story of the Bedouin man who came to the Prophet and asked him what
makes a good Muslim. The Prophet then listed for him the five tenets of
Islam, while the Bedouin was saying, at each tenet, he would do it, but
would not do more, nor less. After the Bedouin left, the Prophet said,
“The Bedouin will succeed if he is truthful.”

Interestingly,
an African American woman in the “after show” segment asked
precisely about this, how the list of the basic commands and
prohibitions of Islam, which the show presented at the beginning, did
not deal with the scarf, and I guess for her, did not reflect the level
of Muslims’ obsession with it. But it is not enough to have such
questions thrown at us from others. Muslim women need to start thinking
for themselves and learn the difference between a command and what a
social practice open to different interpretations.

The
challenge, however, is that most Muslim women are not equipped to stand
up and provide an alternative juristic view of the matter, and the
scholars who do are not willing to discuss it in public out of concerns
of inflaming Muslim sensitivities about an issue which they, and rightly
so, believe is not a pressing one. Even those who are brave enough to
dissent like Jamal Al-Banna face rejection and opposition from
mainstream Muslims, despite being a scholar whose views are rooted
within traditional Islam.

The
centrality of the scarf reduces Islam to a piece of garment and places
Muslims perpetually on the defensive explanatory panel. De-centralizing
and de-romanticizing the scarf, I am afraid, is fast becoming
increasingly urgent and necessary. The recent fatwas are revealing. The
scholars would not ask Muslim women or men, to compromise easily in
something they believed to be a core command of Islam. The events of the
last week have, it seems, started to urge us to rethink our priorities
and what defines being Muslim. This is in itself a big step.

However,
for the moment, until those who are politically and juristically mature
and sophisticated want to discuss this matter openly without getting
bogged down by the many implications and problems it will raise, we will
remain hostage to the centrality of the scarf. And until something is
done, we will be stuck with the rosy and romanticized views of the sweet
Muslim ladies on Oprah's show and forever caught up in the centrality of
the scarf.

For
eternity the question will not be for us, Muslims, why our young men are
turning themselves and others into bombs, or why we do not have
democracy in Muslim
societies, or whether American foreign policy is based on principles of
equality and liberty for all. The question will be, it seems, for a long
time: To veil or not to veil.